The Third Week
by Lucyh95
Summary: It's by the third week that Sam breaks down. (Takes place after 13x23.)
1. Chapter 1

Hello again! Here's another story with Sam and Jack! I just really love their frienship! Hopefully we get to see their bond grow even stronger next season!

I hope I kept everyone in character, I'm always worried it ends up being OOC.

This story can be seen as a continuation from my story "Hot Chocolate and Nougat."

Again, not beta'd.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Jack was in the library of the bunker, trying to organize the books that were scattered all over the place. The books that Sam left in his wake after making his way through them, searching for every possible bit of information that could be helpful for the plan for rescuing Dean from Michael.

He'd been doing that a lot lately. And it felt good doing something, he was grateful for the distraction, otherwise, he would be thinking, worrying about Dean, and that wasn't something he wanted to do, it wouldn't help anyone. Not Dean, not Sam, not Castiel, not Mary. No, he would make himself useful the best he could.

He was just dusting off another old book when the heavy front door opened, its metal creaking in protest, followed by a dull bang when the door closed. Sam was back from wherever he'd gone. Probably looking for leads on Michael, like Castiel and Mary had done so often. Unfortunately many times without much success.

Sam was getting more restless and frantic with the day. It pained Jack to see his friend suffering so much. They all carried the weight of Dean's absence. But for no one was the weight more crushing than for Sam.

Sam's hurried footsteps lead down the metal stairs and through the hall. The sound of a slamming door, and then silence.

Jack winced, it probably didn't mean anything good. Presumably a dead-end on a lead or something like that.

It wasn't that they didn't make any progress, but it was going slowly; _it would always be going too slow._

It was breaking Sam up, and Jack did his best to keep an eye on his friend.

After another hour of sorting out the dusty mess on the floor, Jack gave up. He needed a break and wanted to check on Sam. He hadn't heard anything after the slam of the bedroom door, and that was worrying him. He knew that Sam was pushing himself hard, _too hard_ , he was running low on energy, and that could make someone sick.

He had a feeling this wasn't the first time that either of the brothers were in this position, and thinking about that fact left him feeling queasy.

With a sigh, he stood up and went to check on Sam.

Standing before the closed bedroom door, he hesitated before knocking. Maybe Sam wanted to be left alone. But it had been over an hour now, and Jack was worried. Sam always came looking for him—looked out for him. He figured he could do the same.

He took in a breath and knocked. No reaction. "Sam?" He called out softly. Again nothing. He tried the door handle, to his relief the door wasn't locked. Slowly he opened the door. The room was dark, but he could see Sam's outline sitting on the bed.

"Sam?" No answer, except for a soft sound. A sniffle? Jack took a step forward. "Sam, what's—" Another sound, accompanied by the shake of shoulders.

Then, with a jolt, it dawned on him; Sam was _crying_. He was sitting there, _alone_ , with nothing but a dusty floor to stare at and his own thoughts to accompany him, but those thoughts were probably nothing good right now.

Jack felt the panic rising, but he swallowed it down. _Not now._

In a few steps, he was at Sam's side, and he let a hand come down gently on one of the shaking shoulders.

Sam didn't look up, eyes tightly clenched shut, and Jack could now see the tears that were rolling down, one after another.

For a moment, Jack was at a loss what to do. What would Sam want him to do? Then another thought came to him: _what would Sam do?_

And _that_ is something he knows.

He sits down next to the youngest hunter, puts his arm around the broad shoulders, squeezes Sam against him, and holds on.

Sam cries for a long time, the tears never seeming to cease. He cries until the great shuddering sobs fade away until there is nothing left but soft hiccups and hitching breaths.

"Are you okay?"

A sigh, followed by a small nod.

When Jack is sure Sam is calmed down enough, he pats his back lightly and stands up. He grabs the tissue box on his left and sets it down in the lap next to him.

"I'm going to get you something, I'll be right back, okay?"

Sam nods again but doesn't look up, busying himself with a few tissues, wiping his wet face.

Jack takes that as a yes and hurries out of the room, his mind frantically going over everything he needs for what he is about to prepare.

 _He can do this, and this time he will do it right._

After 15 minutes (longer than he would have liked) he's back at the doorstep of the bedroom. Sam's still sitting in the same spot Jack left him. He walks up to the bed until he's standing next to him.

"Uhm, I made this for you."

And at that, Sam looks up, eyes still red and swollen, but his face is dry.

Jack is standing before him, in his hands a tray with two steaming mugs.

"I made you hot chocolate, all by myself, and I did it right this time! I have nougat too!"

Jack can't help the small smile of pride at that. He didn't mess up this time, didn't burn his hand.

Sam's eyes widen a little in surprise. "Thank you, Jack, that's really great!"

Sam's voice is hoarse but strong, and a small smile appears.

And that's all that Jack wants for now.

He smiles back, "let's drink it before it gets cold, after all, hot chocolate is the best when it's still hot, right!"

Sam's smile widens until he's grinning.

"Yeah," he says, "you're right."


	2. Chapter 2

Hi! I wrote a second chapter, I wanted to explore Sam's POV a little bit more.

Again, not beta'd.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Sam hadn't meant to break down. He really hadn't. But when the bedroom door clicked shut behind him, the tears just started, completely out of his control. And then he just sat there in the dark, the weight of everything crushing him—choking him. He just sat there, staring at the floor, seeing nothing but Dean's smile right before it crumbled, along with everything else.

"Sam?" Suddenly, Jack is there. And he squeezes his eyes shut. A hand settles itself gently on his shoulder. Sam wants to say something, but his throat is tight, the lump there making it impossible to speak, and he's also pretty sure his vocal cords have given up on him.

A moment nothing happens, and Sam prays Jack will leave. He'll be alright. _He has to_. He just needs a moment first.

The rustling of clothes, an arm comes up around his shoulders, and before he knows it, he's being enveloped in a crushing hug.

And oh God, he can't handle this, not now. But it doesn't matter how hard he fights for control; his body just completely gives up on him. And he dissolves into floods of tears and wracking sobs.

He feels like he's drowning, desperately gasping for air. But it's the arm around him that keeps him afloat. Keeps him breathing.

He must look really pathetic, his nose is running and he just _can't_ stop sobbing. But he can't seem to pull away, and he lets himself melt into the comfort.

After a long while he finally calms down, the pressure in his chest and head fading. And now that the tightly wound feelings finally have found their way out, it's shame that fills up the vacant place in his chest. And Sam can't bear to look at Jack.

"Are you okay?"

Sam sighs and nods. Jack moves and a tissue box finds its way into his lap. Grateful for the distraction he busies himself with wiping his face.

"I'm going to get you something, I'll be right back, okay?"

Sam nods again, still not looking up.

Jack leaves him behind, and for a while he stares numbly at the dirty floor at his feet.

"Uhm, I made this for you."

And that makes Sam look up. Jack is standing before him, within his hands, a tray with two steaming mugs.

"I made you hot chocolate, all by myself, and I did it right this time! I have nougat too!"

Jack smiles at him, a little shy but proud.

Sam feels a warmth spreading through his body, eyes widening. "Thank you, Jack, that's really great!" He croaks out. And despite himself, he feels the corners of his mouth tug up into a smile. Sam remembers the first time Jack had tried making hot chocolate for him, and the kid had burned himself.

He knows that Jack worries about him. He often tries to help and comfort Sam; bringing him sleeping pills or cleaning up the library after he has made his way through all the books, _again_.

Sam loves the kid like family. Jack _is_ a part of their family. All the kid's gestures of help, love, and comfort; it warms Sam's heart.

Jack sets the tray down and smiles back at him. "Let's drink it before it gets cold, after all, hot chocolate is the best when it's still hot, right!"

Sam's own words, the words when he had tried to cheer up Jack, are spoken back to him.

His smile widens until he's grinning, something he didn't think he was capable of anymore.

"Yeah," Sam says, "you're right."


	3. Chapter 3

I hadn't planned on writing this, but I think this is a nice third chapter for this little story.

Not beta'd, all the mistakes are mine.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Here you go."

Sam looked up from the book he was bent over. Mary was standing next to him. She'd brought him a sandwich and a glass of juice.

"Thanks." He gave her a smile and to his surprise, his mouth watered at the thought of food. _When was the last time he'd been hungry?_ He shoved the book to the side and began eating in silence.

Mary sat down next to him, nursing a coffee mug. "So, you feeling better?"

"Huh?" He looked up at her, swallowing a bite.

She smiled knowingly. "Jack told me he made you hot chocolate."

 _Oh, right._

Suddenly, he couldn't bear to look at her anymore and he looked down at the half-eaten sandwich, he felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Uh, yeah..."

A short silence followed.

"I'm glad we still have a kitchen left."

Sam gave a short laugh, "yeah, and more importantly, that he's alright. The poor kid burned himself the first time he tried making it."

"He's a good kid and a fast learner," Mary said, picking up one of the books laying on the table.

"Yeah."

Sam picked nervously at his sandwich. "And I'm feeling better, a little." He looked up at her.

"That's good." She gave him a warm smile before her expression turned serious. "And we will find Dean, Sam. We will get him back."

"Yeah," he breathed, "we will."


	4. Chapter 4

Well, I wrote yet another chapter! I was thinking about Jack and Mary having a conversation about hot chocolate, and how that would have gone. This is what I came up with.

Again not beta'd.

Hope you enjoy!

*Update: I made some changes, I was not totally happy with what I had written before. I think this chapter has a better flow now.

* * *

"I made Sam hot chocolate today, all by myself!"

Jack was standing before Mary, smiling brightly, in his hand a steaming mug which she assumed held said drink.

He held out the mug to her. "Here, I made you some, too."

"Thank you, Jack." She took the mug from him and put it down between the many books that were splayed out on the table.

"Is Castiel around too?" Jack looked around.

"No, sorry sweety, he isn't, but he'll be back later."

"Ow okay, I made him some too."

Mary took a sip. It tasted sweet. Like she remembered. _When was the last time she had drunk hot chocolate?_ She put the mug down. "It tastes really good, Jack."

Jack's slightly nervous smile turned bright again. "Yeah? That's great!"

Then he stood there, fidgeting a little. He cleared his throat. "Uhm, does Dean like hot chocolate?"

Mary's smile faltered a little, an old memory of little Dean happily sipping from a large mug surfaced. She gave a sad chuckle. "Yeah, Jack, he does."

"Could-could I make him some, one day? I mean..." He trailed off, avoiding her gaze.

Mary's heart ached for both her oldest son and the boy standing before her, and she took in a deep breath. "Of course, sweety, of course you can. You can make us all hot chocolate when we get Dean back, I would love that."

She smiled at him, pushing back tears that wanted to well up.

"Okay, I will! I promise!" Jack's fierce answer made her chest a little less tight.

Jack began turning away, but he changed his mind and turned back to face her. His expression serious.

"Okay, uhm..." Jack hesitated, seeming to have something else on his mind but not sure of what to say.

"What is it, Jack? " Mary had wanted to return to her research, but now her focus lay again on the wavering boy before her.

"Sam broke down this afternoon." Jack blurted out, looking uncomfortable.

Mary felt the tears rise again.

She knew Sam was wearing himself out; not eating or sleeping enough. She was worried, and she'd _tried_ , but nothing was stopping Sam from staying up all night and running around all day, researching, looking for leads on Michael.

Jack swallowed and looked away. "He broke down. And I-I didn't really know what to do at first, but then I thought _what would Sam do_ , and so I hugged him, and afterward, I brought him hot chocolate and nougat. I hoped that that would make him feel a little better. "

Mary had to resist to urge to jump up and run over to her youngest son and hug him.

"I'm glad you were there for him, Jack." The boy standing before her looked up at her. She continued softly, "it was bound to happen sooner or later. After weeks of worry and not sleeping or eating, everyone would break. "

Jack's shoulder sagged a little. "Yeah."

The word hung between them.

Mary sighed and broke the silence "I know you're worried. I, too, am worried, but the only thing we can do right now is keeping an eye on him, ensuring he doesn't anything reckless and trying to get him to sleep more and eat more."

"And getting Dean back." Jack's expression is firm.

"Yeah, and getting Dean back" Mary nods. "Of course we are getting Dean back." She nods again, reassuring them both.

The silence stretches out, leaving them both to their own thoughts.

"Okay, I'll let you get back to work, I-I'm going to the library, to do some more cleaning."

Jack turns around, but Mary calls out to him, "Jack?"

He looks at her over his shoulder.

"You did good, Jack. Thank you."

The smile she gets at that makes it a little easier to breathe.


End file.
